For Mother's Day(second Sunday in May, in North America) I asked husband and children to accompany me to the Evergreen Brickworks Garden Market, in the Don River valley, a community-based enterprise that specializes in native and low-maintenance plants. The 'low-maintenance' part especially appealed to me. We acquired a trillium-- the state flower of Ontario-- along with a dwarf cherry tree, some grasses, a raspberry, meadowsweet, thyme, and a number of other plants whose names escape me. Everyone got to choose something. After a hot drink and a wander in the grounds of the Brickworks, we came home and worked together, in amicable cooperation, whistling happy tunes, for five hours. I lie, of course. But the point is we did work hard, digging, weeding, preventing attempts at escape by children and pets, planting, hauling the dog back from next-door. Five hours times five of us. That's 25 human-hours, right? Well, here is the 'before' picture of the back yard:
And here is the 'after':
Five hours. Times five. Disappointing, to say the least. We have much to learn, Kimo Sabe, about gardening in Toronto.
Locals have been helpful, though. I met a neighbour from the street behind ours, a 'lane-mate' (their house backs onto the same alleyway as ours). She offered advice about starting plants indoors, because the gardening season is so short, especially in years like this one with a never-ending winter, and about where to get plants, for instance at nearby Christie Pits Park, next weekend:
http://torontobotanicalgarden.ca/event/north-american-native-plant-societys-native-plant-sale-in-christie-pits/
This particular neighbour, Jessica, popped round Sunday morning to tell my daughter and her friends that the mouse had died. This pronouncement luckily did not have the same import as saying that the rabbit had died (children, long ago, that's how a pregnancy was determined) but was nonetheless news of some moment. Jessica, along with her small son and my daughter and her friends, had on Saturday tended to an injured rodent in the park across the street. They fed it Doritos, and in fact named it Dorito (alternatively 'Daphne' if it proved to be female). They made a nest (more of a hospice) from a discarded blanket before being called home to dinner. The kids were prepared for the mouse's demise, and philosophical about it. Perhaps morbidly, they were actually fairly excited about the prospect of a funeral. Before even eating breakfast the next morning, they were all out of the house and following Jessica across the street. I brought up the rear, and a shovel. The memorial was lovely, the headstone (which they had prepared the day before) ever so tasteful.
Requiem for a mouse:
Once we had a chance to chat, I asked Jessica about herself and what she did. She provided one of the more surprising answers I've heard: 'I write books on genocide.' And so she does:
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/author/jessica-dee-humphreys/
The book is written in concert with a Canadian general called Romeo Dallaire, who is apparently well-known in Canada, though not (yet) to me, about the atrocities in Rwanda.
We live in such a wonderful and interesting neighbourhood. Not, I hasten to add, that genocide is wonderful and interesting, but to have neighbours who care enough to write about it certainly is. I am growing to appreciate Harbord Village more and more, especially now that the streets and paths have thawed and I can actually chat with its denizens, who seem to have blossomed with the appearance of sunshine, much as I hope our garden will do.
Our trillium:
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